


Don't Hang on to Anything I Say

by korynn



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Reggie and the Full Effect
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-11
Updated: 2013-09-11
Packaged: 2017-12-26 07:09:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/963053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/korynn/pseuds/korynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Riot Fest '13.</p>
<p>Hooking up wasn't on Frank's plans for this weekend, and especially with someone who had actually been around the block with him before.</p>
<p>Hooking up also shouldn't feel like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Hang on to Anything I Say

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stileswolfsout](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stileswolfsout/gifts).



> One of my guilty pleasure ships, and knowing Frank is going to be at Riot? I couldn't resist.
> 
> Hinted at Frank/Bob, but his name isn't mentioned if you want to think it's someone else. Also, no wives, but Frank's kids are still a thing! 
> 
> Written on my iPhone then filled out on gdoc so hopefully most typos got caught, but all of them are to be blamed by me, myself and I, so point them out if you can? Happy reading, kiddos.

Being shoved face-first against a bus gives Frank the worst case of déjà vu, but the hands sliding up his sides aren't the same. They are oddly familiar, but it isn't until the body presses against his back that it clicks.

The way the guy is grumbling about his cardigan helps, too.

"....Patrick?" Frank twists his head to one side, sees a shoulder and pale skin, the shadow of a fedora.

Yep, he’s right.

Even after years, he can still remember that voice.

Patrick freezes, hands tightening on Frank's sides. "Not Pete?"

"Very much not Pete. Frank. What the hell?"

Patrick's taken a step back by now, so Frank turns around, reaches up to fix the hat that nearly fell off his head when the brim got pushed against the bus.

"Oh, shit. Frank, I'm sorry. You looked like Pete....and....he's stolen my cardigan, which looks exactly like yours. I didn't mean to molest you."

Frank starts laughing at Patricks face trying to explain this, and he grins at the blush and pout it comes with. "Dude, are you drunk?"

"Maybe. Probably. A little?" Patrick blinks, and pushes his glasses up his nose, giving Frank a smile afterwards. "So, I guess I'm gonna go find Pete or my bus now, before I freeze to death."

Frank snorts, shrugs off the cardigan that got them into this mess in the first place.

"Hey, no, here, can't believe you're cold, it's like 70 degrees. But let me help you, okay? I don't think the next not-Pete will appreciate being shoved around like I did."

Patrick blushes again as he takes the cardigan, shrugging it on before pulling Frank into a hug. "Thank you. How did I ever think you were Pete though, you're actually shorter than me."

Frank startles at the hug, but goes for it anyways, laughing at Patrick. Poor guy is definitely drunk.

"That never stopped you before." he comments, with a tug at Patrick's hips.

"Well before, he was fucking your bassist, and I was a teenager. Oh, shit! I saw you play, it was fucking good. Now I can say I've fucked a bass player."

Frank snorts, pushes his face into Patrick's shoulder. "Pete still hasn't caught on?"

"Yeah, no. I'm pretty sure one day, twenty something years from now, he'll finally realize it, but so far still oblivious as ever."

Patrick's hands won't settle, and Frank feels a little like he might lose another layer to them if he doesn't pull back.

"Okay, seriously. Stop with your hands, dude. Like ice! I’m not stripping out here for you, you’ve already got my cardigan..." He hisses as he pushes them down out of his shirt.

Patrick whines, nudging them back against the bus and holding onto Frank's sides with a grip Frank forgot the younger man had. "So cold though! And you're all warm, Frankie."

The nickname is like a bucket of cold water being dumped over his head; bringing back memories of Patrick saying it against the scorpion on his neck, those hands pinning his wrists down.

"Fuck, Patrick. It's been awhile, hasn't it?" Frank gives in, slides his hands into back pockets and gets a grip on Patrick’s ass to pull him closer.

"Frankie...do you think...do you want to-" Patrick cuts himself off, mouth clumsy as it presses against the corner of Frank's mouth.

Frank moves his head, reaches up to nudge Patrick's jaw and fix things so they're actually kissing, trying not to laugh at the surprised noise the singer makes, or the way he goes for it with too much too fast. Thumb on Patrick's chin keeps him from basically shoving his tongue down Franks throat, but it's a losing battle.

Hands are trying to get Frank's shirt off again, and this time he doesn’t stop them, ignores how cold they are. They still pull a shiver out of him, which he grins at, then nudges Patrick back, nipping at the pout. “Okay, rockstar, you have a bus. Come on. Where’s it at?” Frank asks, digging out his phone to shoot out a text so no one came looking for him. Dewees can survive without his short ass for a night, he’s not worried.

Patrick’s watching him with an almost dazed look, shaking it off when Frank gives him a raised eyebrow. “You’re different...forgot just how long it’s been.” Sliding his hands up and then down Frank’s arms, Patrick barely even reacts to the lack of a ring, just squeezes Frank’s hands before letting go and shoving hands into pockets.

“How different?” Frank has to ask, curiosity still as strong as ever.

“Responsible. Look closer to an adult. Actually stopped us before clothes hit the ground….I remember a time when you had no problems with me getting my knees torn up my gravel.”

“Yeah, well, dad now. Comes with the territory. Had to try to grow up. I mean, you can still get on your knees, I won’t stop you, but...bunks are comfy, and I kind of want to get you naked, if that’s okay?” Frank tilts his head, nudges one of Patrick’s shoulders. He has a general idea of where the Fall Out Boy buses are, but Frank kind of wants Patrick to be sure of this.

Patrick grins, nods and starts walking. “That’s more than okay. I kind of want to see you, too. I’m sure you have tons of ink that my mouth hasn’t been introduced to...and you might actually like what you see, this time.”

Frank’s mouth twists at that last bit, but he keeps from commenting, just crowds up behind Patrick once they get to his bus and tugs at the bottom of the button up he’s wearing, wanting to get at the skin of his hips. “I’m so excited to get to see all that pale skin of yours turn red, shit. It’s been ages, but ‘m sure I still remember how…” Frank slurs against his neck, smirking as he gets him up and through it, towards the bunks, ignoring whomever might be sitting around.

They’ve had audiences; and if Frank remembers the past, the audiences probably do as well. They’ll clear out if they don’t want to hear, and it doesn’t bother Frank any that people know how good he is.

Patrick’s laughing, dropping Frank’s cardigan on the floor and ditching his fedora, losing clothes easier than before. Might be the alcohol, might be the new look, but Frank doesn’t care, he’s just pulling his t-shirt up and off and tugging at his shoes. Patrick tips him into a bunk when he’s bent over, and Frank yelps when his back hits the mattress but he just laughs when Patrick climbs in with him. “Well hi. In a hurry?”

The singer grins, licking his bottom lip afterwards. “Fuck, yeah. You’re not so tiny anymore….love handles...I just couldn’t help it, I wanna say hi to your birds so much more now.”

He does just that, nudging Frank more into the bunk and hands on thighs holding him up as he noses at Frank’s belly, kisses the swallows and makes wide eyes at Frank’s new chest piece. Well, not new, but new to Patrick.

“Jesus...you’re really covered now. Any room left on this body?” He asks with a smirk, hooking fingers into Frank’s waistband and giving a tug at his jeans.

Hint taken, Frank lifts his hips and lets Patrick undo the button fly along with tug them down, propping himself on his elbows and letting his knees fold up once he’s rid of the rest of his clothes. “Nah, not really. Starting to just fill in the gaps now, don’t want any skin left untouched.”

Patrick laughs, bites at the words on Frank’s thigh before licking over it, glancing over glasses to Frank’s face. “So, just double checking here, but it’s totally in the plan that I’m fucking you tonight, yeah?”

Frank snorts, nods. “Yeah, totally. Please, dude. Like, if we get started on that now, that’d be fantastic. I might need a little bit though, it’s...been-”

Patrick pushes up, gets himself face to face with Frank so he can kiss him. “Been since him, hasn’t it?” They don’t have to say who ‘him’ is, they both know. Frank has a type, and Patrick was the guy’s room mate, he kind of was there for the whole thing.

Frank just nods, gives Patrick another smile before laying down, using his knees to squeeze him a little. “So, yeah. Fingers, mouth, whatever. You know what I like, just...take it slow, okay?”

Patrick laughs again at that, mouth going to the words over Frank’s collar as he gropes around underneath his pillow. “Slow was never a thing you really liked, but alright, sure….you still clean, then?”

Frank groans, reaching up to dig fingers into Patrick’s back, move them into hair to hold him down for another kiss. “Yeah I am, but fuck, you want to do that? Clean up’s gonna be a bitch.”

“No, not if you roll over for me... I’ll even lay in the wet spot you’re sure to make, be considerate. For old time’s sake.” Patrick starts petting his hands up and down Frank’s sides, grinning down at him as he lifts up enough for the older man to turn.

Frank lets out a muffled noise when he settles on his stomach, then lifts his head up, nearly clocking Patrick with it. “Ditch your pants first, dude. Come on.”

He chuckles at Patrick’s “oh, right, shit” and the whump of jeans hitting the floor, but gasps a little at all that cool skin pressed against his once Patrick nudges his legs apart and gets comfortable next to him, mostly on his side, one leg thrown over a thigh to hold it down. Patrick remembers how Frank reacts to being fingered, and doesn’t think it’s a good idea in the bunk if he moves a lot. Frank shifts to get to where he can kiss Patrick even as he hears the click of the bottle and skin rubbing together; Patrick spreading lube over his fingers.

“Sorry, I kinda...kinda rushed this, didn’t I?” Patrick asks, quiet, spreading Frank’s cheeks and slipping the pads of slicked fingers over his hole, and Frank shivers before flushing, eyes closing, trying to relax. “No, not really. Shit, I needed this. Had no idea….” Frank murmurs in reply, both of them laughing at the squeak he makes as the first finger pushes in.

“Yeah….good...I...me too. God, it’s been forever…..I’m glad I ran into you...almost forgot what it felt like, to be with someone who actually wanted me, and not just....”

Frank flutters his eyes open, stares at Patrick. “...I...exactly.” Biting his lip, he presses his face into Patrick’s chest, whimpers muffled at the second finger. Patrick’s not rushing, not at all, but Frank is so sensitive to this. It’s even worse now that he knows that before wasn’t a fluke, wasn’t just because he was there. Knows that Patrick means it. He can’t think straight enough for this.

Tipping his hips up, Frank ignores how that makes him feel so needy, but Patrick’s so good at what he’s doing, and catches it so well, curling his fingers and pressing in, gets a rhythm going even as he moves, knees between Frank’s and Frank has to watch, twisting onto his elbow and looking over his shoulder as Patrick somehow manages to keep his hand in him even as his other slicks his dick up. “Are you sure, Frankie? Really sure?”

Patrick’s eyes are wide, and Frank laughs, because he hasn’t even taken off his glasses. Fuck, that’s...that’s just so hot. Adorable, too, but...hot. Reaching out, he somehow manages to pluck them off without stabbing him in the eye.

Then he tilts his body, sliding his knees up so ass pushes onto Patrick’s fingers once more.

“Yeah, babe. I want you. Come on, please.”

Patrick groans, hand messy as it grabs at Frank’s side, hold him still while he guides himself to push in. “Frankie, god. Goddamn. Fuck, you feel-”

Frank snorts, hand squeezing the one on his side to stop the spill of words. “Yeah. You too.” He gasps, and he gets it, whatever it was Patrick was trying to say.

It’s overwhelming, and Frank almost feels like there’s something more there, something that just never was there before.

Which completely baffles him, but he’s not going to ask Patrick, see if he feels the same, because maybe it’s just his mind being a hopeless romantic, like his hands like to point out he is.

Patrick brings him back to reality with the first real thrust, and fuck, it doesn’t hurt at all. Frank’s forgotten how that was, to be with someone who knew how much prep he needed, how to make it feel good. He groans into the pillow, lifts his hips and gets some weight on his knees, just enough to push a hand under himself, wrap around him. Patrick’s hand follows, and it’s slicker than his own, so Frank lets him, biting his lip and almost missing the lip ring, remembering the last time Patrick had him like this, how different they both were.

Frank shuts his eyes again, moving his other hand so he can bite at the inside of his forearm, muffle his noises.

Patrick’s quiet except for his heavy breathing above him, peppering kisses on his shoulders, and it’s like a funhouse; surreal but reality.

Frank knows this is them, but it’s so gentle, and Patrick might be a bit drunk, so Frank gets a small bite of guilt that he won’t even remember it, but there’s no way he’s stopping them now.

Patrick biting his neck gets him to moan almost too-loud, and Patrick laughs, squeezing Frank’s side and changing the angle on him.

“Come on Frankie, you first.” Patrick whispers, lips against his ear, hand on his cock gripping just right and Frank groans, giving up on being quiet as he comes, hips twitching.

Wheezing, he feels the pulse of Patrick in him, and drifts through the afterwards, through Patrick licking at his thighs, through being nudged onto his side and pressed against the wall of the bunk, only making a noise when Patrick tries to get a blanket over them.

“Hey, sleepyhead, come on. I know you’re useless after coming, but I don’t think anyone wants to see our naked asses.”

Frank snorts, gropes at Patrick’s ass, clumsy and a little rough. “I don’t know, I like it.”

Smiling at the laugh it gets him, Frank’s eyes fight to stay open, watch Patrick smile back, lean close for a kiss that’s too soft, after what they’ve done.

“I’ve missed you.”

He doesn’t get a chance to reply, sleep getting him first.

But he hopes Patrick knows he feels the same.

Frank will tell him when he wakes up.

 

**Author's Note:**

> ......I really didn't mean for it to get as fluffy as it did. Sorry!
> 
> (Sequel is a-maybe a-lurking; my muse has got a whole slew of wants and needs from this little 'verse I've created with this silly fic.)


End file.
